


A Very Bad Idea

by Sherlock1110, sherlockian4evr



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Confused Moriarty, Gen, Humor, Kidnapping, Knitting, Mrs. Hudson Being Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock Cares About Mrs. Hudson, biscuits - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 17:49:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6998443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moriarty or another bad guy decides to kidnap Mrs. Hudson to get Sherlock's attention. This turns out to be a Bad Idea.</p><p>Why it is a bad idea is up to the author. She can annoy him to death, turn him good with her mothering ("I'm your hostage, not your housekeeper, dear. So be a good boy and make me some tea."), or be a total BAMF and get out herself. Or Sherlock and John (Mycroft? Lestrade and company?) can show him just why no one should threaten their favourite mother-figure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Bad Idea

James Moriarty walked brazenly into 221A. He didn't normally like to get his hands dirty, but this required the personal touch. He walked through the flat, gun drawn, until he found the person he was looking for, Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock's oh-so-much-more than a landlady. She was busy taking a pan of biscuits from the oven.

"Oh, dear, you gave me a fright," she exclaimed.

"That was exactly the plan, Mrs. Hudson."

"Oh, James, put that thing down. It's dreadfully annoying. What if it was to go off?"

Moriarty waved the gun in her direction. "I'm kidnapping you. The fact the gun could go off is rather the point."

She waved a tea towel at him, then pointed to the cupboard. "I know, dear. Still, put it down and hand me a plate, no, two. We'll take some biscuits with us, but we'll need to leave some upstairs for the boys first."

Moriarty stared at her for a moment. "Don't you under-"

"Oh, I understand perfectly, young man, now do as you are told."

The Irishman found himself pulling down two plates from the cupboard she was pointing at.

Mrs. Hudson stood with her hands on her hips. "These really should cool for a bit, but I suppose you're in a hurry." She grabbed a utensil and started moving the biscuits to the plates. Jim started to snag one and take a bite, but she slapped his hand away. "You can have one when we get where we're going and not before."

Moriarty actually dropped the biscuit back to the plate.

"Now, I'll just run these upstairs. My boys are out for the day. So it should be a nice surprise."

The criminal mastermind stood back and watched, this woman was mad, utterly and completely.

"There now," the landlady said as she bustled back into her flat. "Just let me grab my coat and gloves." She did so, then grabbed up her basket of knitting and handed it to Moriarty who was already stood there with the cookies.

He grasped the basket as it was thrust upon him.

"You better have a car waiting, young man, my hip isn't what it used to be."

At the front door, Mrs. Hudson stopped. "Well?" Moriarty juggled his load and opened the door for her. "Thank you." She walked to the waiting car and waited for Jim to open it for her as well. As she climbed in, she asked, "Do you have milk? We can't enjoy my biscuits without it."

He watched in confusion as she climbed in the back. He had long since lost his gun… he must have put it down somewhere in her flat.

He turned to go and find it, but Mrs. Hudson opened the door. "Come now, James I haven't got all day."

Jim climbed in the car and ordered Moran to drive.

"Now then," Mrs. Hudson patted his leg, "It was very rude of you to just pop in without warning, dear. I do hope you will give me warning next time, though I didn't really need to pack a bag." She gave him a pointed look. "You do intend to have me home by dinner. Mrs. Turner is dropping by."

Moran had stopped at a traffic light and was staring, open mouthed, into the back seat. His mouth opened even wider when his boss didn't immediately begin berating the older woman.

"I…" he trailed off. "Maybe it would be best if you called and cancelled."

The old woman sighed. "You young folk simply don't have any manners these days. Give me your phone, dear." She held out her hand expectantly and Moriarty handed it to her, ignoring how bad that could be after kidnapping the woman. Several minutes later, she rang off and handed it back along with a 'thank you'. "We've been driving quite some time. If we're not going to arrive soon, we'll need to make a stop so I can move my hip a bit. I should have brought my herbal soothers."

"Boss?" Moran questioned.

He shrugged. "We're not that far, Martha."

"It's Mrs. Hudson!"

Jim had to duck as she made to hit him on the back of the head. Moran bit his lip, trying to hide his amusement, but the consulting criminal noticed. "Something funny, Seb?"

"No, sir. Absolutely not."

"Good." Moriarty pulled at his lapels, straightening them as he tried to reclaim his dignity.

He failed miserably.

* * *

When they reached their location they ushered Sherlock's landlady into the building and Moran tapped his boss on his shoulder.

"Sir, this isn't quite what I was expecting."

"Nor me, as long as Sherlock's suitably worried though…"

"Boys! Where's the milk?"

Jim rolled his eyes. "For God's sake, go get her some milk," he said in a low growl.

Moran nodded. "Anything else?"

Jim sighed and ran a hand over the back of his neck. "Mrs. Hudson, Sebastian is going for milk. Do you need anything else?"

She shook her head. "No, dear." Then she bustled back into the building, not a care in the world.

"Sir, this was your idea."

"And you're not going to let me forget it, are you?"

Moran chuckled. "Nope. sir," he added at Moriarty's unimpressed glance.

"Go!"

When he went inside, he found Sherlock's landlady sitting in his preferred chair. "Excuse me, Mrs. Hudson, but-"

"If you're going to tell me this is your chair, I already know, but it's the most comfortable. If you're going to kidnap a woman with a bad hip, you have to make sacrifices. Now be a dear and make me some tea."

He opened his mouth to argue, but closed it again with a sigh. "Do you want sugar?" He growled.

"Excuse me, dear?"

"I mean… do you prefer sugar in your tea, Mrs. Hudson?"

"Yes, thank you." She waved a hand Jim's way. "My knitting, please."

Moriarty handed her the basket, then went to put on the kettle. He was more than a bit bemused.

"Where's the remote control for the telly? My favourite program is about to start."

Jim came back into the living room and started looking for the remote. He never watched TV, Seb did that.

"Do hurry, dear. I don't want to miss the beginning."

Once again, he opened his mouth to argue, but found himself with nothing to say. He just hoped Seb would get back soon. Then, they could plot how they were going to tell the Baker Street boys.

Finally finding the remote, he gave it to the woman. Just then the kettle boiled.

"Tea, dear," she reminded him as she turned on the telly and found her program. Mrs. Hudson set about arranging her knitting.

Moriarty watched her from the door. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go. She had been kidnapped, she was supposed to be panicking, not sitting in his front room like she owned it.

After Jim finished making tea, he sat it on the table next to Mrs. Hudson.

"Oh, thank you, dear. Have a seat, you're making me nervous." Mrs. Hudson gave him a smile as he sat. "That man, what did you call him? Moran? I think he's good for you. You make a nice couple."

He scowled. "We aren't a couple."

"Yes, you are."

"No… we're not," he argued.

"Whatever, dear."

Moriarty growled in frustration. "Does Sherlock have to put up with this?"

"Watch your tone, young man." She shot him a stern motherly look. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Just then his phone rang. He answered it immediately, assuming it was Seb. It wasn't.

"Moriarty? What have you done with my landlady?"

"Oh, thank God!" the consulting criminal said under his breath. He made himself sound cheerful and anything but desperate. "Sherlock, Shezza, so nice to hear your voice. How's the doctor."

"James, is that Sherlock? Hand me the phone dear." Mrs. Hudson snapped her fingers. "Right this minute!"

"Erm… I don't think so…"

She cleared her throat pointedly and he gave up, handing it over.

"Young man, you better have a bloody good explanation for winding James up. He's dreadfully rude."

Sherlock's landlady shook her head. "No, dear, he hasn't hurt me, but he did wave his gun around a bit before I made him set it down... Oh, you found it? Well, give it to John, I'll not have you shooting up my walls... There's no rush, really. I've already cancelled with Mrs. Turner. Well, alright, then. See you soon. Give John my love." She rang off. "Oh, did you want to talk with him some more?"

He was scowling at her again. "I think it's about time you-"

This time the interruption was Moran coming in through the front door with the extra milk.

Moriarty moved to join him immediately. "This isn't going to plan," he hissed.

Sebastian looked around Jim at the woman. "What's she done now?"

"What hasn't she done? She's crazy! Go, call Sherlock. Send him clues. Lots of clues. Make sure he solves the riddle soon."

"Boys, stop your whispering," Mrs. Hudson called, "it's rude."

Jim rolled his eyes again. "Sorry, Mrs. Hudson."

"Come and sit back down here," she ordered. "I like looking at you."

That made Moriarty smirk.

"So what exactly did you hope to achieve taking me in the first place?" She asked.

"Well, um, you were supposed to be frantic and when I finally let you talk to Sherlock, you were supposed to make him afraid for you. I was going to make him run all over London in a panic."

"Oh, silly boy. You're nowhere near as bad as my ex. Did Sherlock ever tell you about him?" Mrs. Hudson glanced down at her knitting. "I suppose not. Dreadful man. He's dead now, thanks to Sherlock." She chuckled at the look on Moriarty's face. "Not like that. He didn't kill him, just made sure he got the death penalty."

"You do realise, if he so wished after this, his older brother Mycroft could have you sent to the same state in America. It would save you bothering his little brother."

"Ah, you see, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft and I have an understanding."

"Of course you do, dear, but Sherlock really is quite fond of me for some reason, and Mycroft would do anything for his baby brother, after all." She smiled at him. "Just something to think about, dear. Now, back to happier subjects. If you want to keep that man of yours, you might not want to sound so bossy with him all the time. Try using honey rather than vinegar. In other words, ask him sweetly to do things."

"We're not-"

"Oh, pish, you sound just like John and we all know how besotted he is."

Mrs. Hudson gave him a wink and he moaned. Having some mad old woman trying to orchestrate his non-existent love life was the last thing he had expected to happen today. Maybe he should just call Sherlock back. Perhaps he could persuade the detective to meet him and take her back early.

"Sherlock seems to have worked out where she is," Moran said from the door.

Moriarty glanced up. "Why is that a problem?"

"Well… he seems quite content to sit outside and wait."

He nodded at the window.

Moriarty leapt up. "Oh, no. No, no, no. Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock's come for you. It's time for you to go."

"Not until my program is over, dear. Now, have a seat both of you." She pointed to the nearby sofa and the two men sat.

"How long is left Mrs. Hudson, I'm sure Sherlock could record-"

"Hush, now James. Enough of your sulking as well. You're as bad as my Sherlock is."

Huffing out a breath, Jim let his head drop back against the cushion. What had he been thinking? He'd definitely stick to kidnapping John Watson in the future. He tapped his fingers nervously on his knee, waiting for the program to go off. It finally did.

Mrs. Hudson put away her knitting and stood, holding out the basket for Moriarty to carry. "Now, it's time for me to go. Enjoy the biscuits and I expect you to return my plate within the week."

He nodded enthusiastically.

"Sherlock, dear," she called from the door, waving.

The detective had clearly stolen his brother's car because he was sat leaning again the black sedan Mycroft was so often seen in.

"Did you enjoy your stay, Mrs. Hudson?" He asked sarcastically, smirking at the look on Moriarty's face.

"It was nice enough, Sherlock, dear, but I'm ready to be back home."

The detective held the door open for her to get in and waited for Moriarty to hand her her knitting basket, then he closed the door. "Jim," he said, getting Moriarty's attention, "Leave Mrs. Hudson alone." He reared back and threw a punch that connected squarely with the consulting criminal's jaw.

The Irishman screwed his eyes shut, trying to hide his shock.

"So not only do I have to put up with your mad landlady I get a punch in the face for my troubles."

"You kidnapped her! What did you expect?"

Moriarty pouted. "I only wanted to have a bit of fun. Come on," he whinged, "I was bored. You can understand that."

Sherlock sniffed and tilted his head to the side. "You leave her out of this."

Mrs. Hudson rolled down the window. "Come along, Sherlock. Bye, dear." She waved at Jim, who stood there in shock as the detective climbed in the car and drove away.


End file.
